


Something with a 'D'

by sinandcinnamon



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Boys Kissing, Candy, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinandcinnamon/pseuds/sinandcinnamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander tried desperately to remember the name of the boy a few feet away. He was pretty sure it started with a 'd.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something with a 'D'

**Author's Note:**

> allyndra asked for some pre-Willow high school Xander/Oz. Well, they're not quite in high school, but they're really, really close. Anyhow, this is for her.

Keeping his eyes trained on the long section of candy in front of him, Xander tried desperately to remember the name of the boy a few feet away. He was pretty sure it started with a 'd.' Damien? Derek? 

Usually he wouldn't worry about it, but it was the end of August. Less than two weeks until school started, and (even more so than in jr. high) bullies got mean in high school. Xander had heard tales of kids locked in their own lockers for entire weekends, of lowly freshmen getting stuffed in dumpsters every day, and about one poor friendless dweeb who'd even been stabbed to death with a barbeque fork, of all things. If Xander was going to survive, he needed contacts.

The boy studying the shelves next to him wasn't Mr. Popularity or anything; he tended to keep to himself. Willow said he was really smart, which would explain why he was always buried in a thick book at lunch, but the cool kids seemed to respect him, maybe even like him, in spite of his slight geekiness.

That was a trick Xander _really_ wanted to learn. Beginning his high school experience the way he'd begun his eighth grade experience (a wedgie from Larry and a flamboyantly gay porn magazine falling out of his locker from God only knew who) wasn't part of his plan. Even if maybe he'd kept the magazine. No, he needed a mentor, someone who could teach him how to be cool himself, or (failing that) at least how to quit being a target. He needed... Dylan? Dammit, this was never going to work if Xander couldn't even remember the guy's name. How were you supposed to start a conversation in the middle of 7-11 if you didn't know someone's name?

“Hey.” 

Oh. Yeah, that would have worked, if D-whatever hadn't beaten him to it. Xander took a moment to admire his effortless cool once more, before attempting a nonchalant “Hey,” back, flickering his eyes up from the Sixlets in acknowledgment. 

“Xander, right?” he said, and Xander winced a little. Of course he remembered _his_ name. Now Xander felt like even more of a loser.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, hoping that the sparse response wouldn't give away his own ignorance. The other boy gave a quirky little half-grin, though, and Xander knew he'd been caught out.

“I'm Oz. We had history together.” _Oz??_ No way did that start with a 'd,' and the 'd' was one thing he was sure of. Besides, Oz? He would have remembered something that instantly reminded him of the Lollipop Guild. Oooh, lollipops. Xander added a handful of Tootsie Pops to his intended purchases. He mentally shrugged off the pseudonym. Maybe he didn't want Xander telling anyone he'd talked to him. Preserving his own coolness for becoming a Freshman or something.

“Yeah, Mrs. Bennett,” Xander said, and hoped his disappointment wasn't obvious in his voice. Anyone who knew him well would be able to tell anyhow, just by how few words he was using, but Oz didn't know him very well. And obviously wanted to keep it that way, which made it really strange that he'd started this conversation in the first place.

The conversation seemed to have died anyhow. Xander snuck a peek and saw Oz was frowning slightly, shifting from foot to foot. Maybe he was trying to figure out how to leave now that he'd remembered what a loser Xander was. Xander wondered if he should make it easy for him by going to the checkout counter, even though he still had another three dollars of allowance to spend. He could always choose the rest of his candy tomorrow.

“So, uh,” Oz broke in uncertainly before Xander could set his plan in motion. “You've done this before, right?” He gestured at the part of the aisle he'd been hovering in front of, and Xander automatically looked over to see packets of Koolaid. He fought the urge to groan. “For Karen?”

Karen had been Willow's second-best friend in seventh grade. She'd been a blonde girl from Arizona who had transferred in during the third week of school. Willow had still hung out with him and Jesse a lot, but she had started spending a bunch of time with Karen too, giggling and whispering and acting like a _girl_. Xander wasn't used to thinking about Willow as a girl. She was just Willow.

Anyhow, Karen and Willow had decided they both wanted to be Pippy Longstocking for Halloween. _”We'll be like twins!”_ they had gushed to Xander. Willow already had red hair, and her mom knew how to braid wire in to make the curled up crazy hairstyle, but Karen needed help. Luckily, _Sassy_ magazine had the answer.

Koolaid dye. Cheap and completely temporary, at least that's what it was supposed to be. They'd thought that meant “until you wash it out” but it ended up meaning “a week and a half, and even then you'll have a slight orange tint.” Xander's hands had ended up all orange-y red too, the consequence of being the designated dye-er. So, yeah... he knew how to do it. But he kind of wished he didn't.

Oz was still looking at him inquisitively. Xander took a closer look and noticed that it was also _hopefully_. He sighed, and tried to make the best of it. Maybe he'd pick up a little cool by osmosis or something. And he was definitely wearing gloves this time.

“Yeah, I remember how.” Now that he'd decided on a course of action, he found he wasn't dreading it as much as he'd expected to. “You want to know how, or you want me to help you do it?”

“Would you?” It was hard to tell Oz was excited; his voice was the same soft even melody as always, and he looked calm, but... Xander sensed something, a flicker, a tension, and was pretty sure that in his weird-cool way, Oz was practically jumping up and down. 

“Yeah, sure,” Xander said, smiling. “I work cheap, too. Just grab a couple extra packets to actually make Koolaid with, and I'm good.”

Oz gave another one of those little smiles, and Xander felt warm all over. He was glad Oz had turned back to the packets because he had a feeling his own smile had turned huge and goofy the way it always did.

“Does it matter which flavor?” he asked Xander.

Xander tilted his head and thought about it. “Um, not really. At least, I don't think so, it didn't say anything about that, like that grape works but pink lemonade is a dud. What color do you need? I mean, what's it for?” It hadn't occurred to Xander until just then that they were very far from Halloween.

“Band tryout,” Oz replied. “You know Devon MacLeish? He wants to put something together, maybe try to play at the Bronze. He didn't say I had to dye it, just bring my guitar and play, but I figured... if I'm gonna be in a band, I might as well look the part. You know?”

Xander was impressed. Devon was like a junior... well, maybe 'sophomore and a half' was a more accurate guess, since he probably hadn't passed all his classes. “Okay, so pretty much any color, then. You don't have a preference?”

Oz made a little shrug. “Nah, I'm good with anything. Maybe green? Might bring out my eyes.” He plucked at something called Kickin' Kiwi Lime, which Xander knew to be pretty virulent, unlike Oz's eyes which were some dark, complicated shade that might or might not involve green. He didn't sound particularly attached to the Kiwi Lime though, and so Xander didn't feel bad as he shook his head firmly. 

“No, green's not gonna be a good choice. See, it's not like paint, it's see-through... so like, your natural color will mix. If we did green, it'd probably just end up kind of a brownish olive color. We need something where that won't happen. What about like...” Xander's hand slid along the shelf of choices. “Oh! Black Cherry, perfect! Plus it tastes good, too. And bright red is pretty kick-ass, and it won't look weird on you when it starts to fade. Um, like Karen's did.”

His potential dye-ee nodded sagely. “Makes sense. How much do we need?”

\---------------

They'd ended up taking their haul of Koolaid powder (and candy for Xander) to Oz's house. Xander had warned him it could be pretty messy and explained that his mom would so not be cool for it happening in their bathroom. Oz had just shrugged and said his mom wouldn't mind. That seemed to be true, though Mrs. Osbourne had barely registered to him before she was out the door with a “Be good, Danny! I'll be home by seven!”

“Daniel!” Xander had exclaimed, because no one had ever called Oz 'Danny' at school. “I knew it was something with a 'd'!” Then he blushed and wished for about the millionth time that he had a brain that worked faster than his mouth. 

Oz was blushing pretty spectacularly himself, although maybe that was just because he had such crazy pale skin, creamily translucent and smooth. Still, Xander knew he'd been embarrassed by his mom and even more so by Xander's sudden announcement. “Sorry,” Xander said, trying to act like he hadn't just had a big dramatic Eureka! moment. “Oz is cool, too, I just felt like I should have remembered that. But it's a good nickname for you, I mean, it fits.”

Also duh, Oz wasn't using a pseudonym to avoid people knowing he was hanging out with Xander, he was just trying to be called something cooler than 'Daniel.' Xander could relate to not wanting to go by your given name, having left 'Alexander' behind years ago. And Osbourne... Oz... it made sense now in a way completely unrelated to Lollipop Guilds. Mmm, lollipop. Xander fished out a cherry one for later (so as not to clash with his beverage) and then got down to the business of gloving up and making the Koolaid paste.

\---------------

It had felt different doing it this time, and Xander didn't think it was just the rubber gloves. Oz had sat still, unlike Karen who had squirmed a lot and winced when her shoulder-length hair had gotten tangled up in his hands. There was no Willow this time, hovering over his shoulder and critiquing his novice dye techniques and telling him over and over to spread it more evenly. 

There was just the quiet of the kitchen (more space than the bathroom, with the same easy-to-clean linoleum) and Oz on a chair, with a couple of towels that were old and worn enough that neither of them were worried. Oz's hair was short but dense, and Xander was focused intently on working the paste through it completely. It felt like Oz was watching him, and Xander kicked himself mentally, because of _course_ Oz was looking at him, he was standing right in front of the guy. Still, he didn't look down, didn't check to see if the heavy gaze was measuring him the way it felt like. Didn't check to see if it held approval or not.

Instead, he concentrated on the hair. The hair was easy to understand. Whatever mysteries it harbored – the kinetic whorl of changing lengths, the strangely lush density – were easily revealed as he worked his hands through it, twirling up sticky-stiff spikes of the stuff. Xander could tell already that Oz had his own mysteries, secrets tucked beneath that imperturbable shield of zen self-assurance, and he doubted they would be as easily discovered or as simple to understand. He worked carefully at the short, tricky hairs around Oz's ears, trying not to smear the purple-red glop on the elegant curves. The rubber of the gloves made it hard to tell, but he thought this was probably the softest part of Oz's hair, silkier and finer than the rest. For a moment he wondered what it would feel like without the gloves. Without the dye. He shut his eyes and took a steadying breath.

The scent of cherry was strong, so deep that it was on his tongue as well as in his nose. His mouth watered involuntarily, and he swallowed and opened his eyes again. He was almost done, really. He scooped up the last of the homemade color and went to work, trying to keep his mind on what he was doing. His fingers were deeply laced when he felt a hand on his stomach, and he barely managed not to clench them in surprise. He stood completely still as Oz's small, almost delicate hand began to trace arcane shapes there.

“I like this,” Oz said quietly, his unobtrusive voice not nearly as startling as his touch. Xander was unprepared for the strength of his own response. He wasn't sure _like_ was the right word for it. “Where'd you get it?”

Xander looked down, sure that his face was broadcasting his confusion. Confusion that lifted with great speed and not a small touch of embarrassment when he realized that Oz was referring to the shirt. The complex runes he'd felt resolved themselves into the familiar letters of the alphabet as he watched Oz's finger finish tracing the words. “Oh. Um, my grandma sent it to me.” He hastily finished and pulled his hands back, tugging immediately at his gloves and backing away until he had some more space between them. “You're done. Just gotta let it sit now, and then we'll rinse it out later.”

\---------------

Time had passed quickly, settled on Oz's comfortable couch watching TV. Oz was nested into a circle of towels, but was so poised and careful that they hadn't needed to bother; he hadn't lost a drop of color.

Xander wondered if Oz thought anything of it when he didn't put the gloves back on after announcing it had been long enough. Probably not, he thought. Gloves weren't as necessary for rinsing as for dyeing anyhow, and it wasn't like Oz was familiar enough with the process to quibble. 

The process currently involved having Oz lean backward over the kitchen sink with a wince that reminded Xander that the small of your back wasn't a comfortable place for a counter. He finished adjusting the temperature and then pushed the faucet into place. Water fell in a steady stream over the clumped and sticky hair, and Xander worked it quickly with nimble fingers. The cherry smell, which had never fully dissipated, returned in force. The dissolving dye was interesting to watch, the clear of the water transforming to sparkling ruby as it fell.

Oz made a pleased noise as Xander's hands massaged his scalp, and Xander looked at him. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed and content. The texture of his hair was coming through now in places as the Koolaid rinsed away, and Xander fingered it with guilty curiosity, wondering if it was the same or if the dye had changed it. Oz's head settled more firmly into his hands, and Xander knew it must be hard to support in that position, so he moved one hand underneath, letting the weight of the other boy's skull rest in the curve of his palm. Oz let his head drop back with a sigh of relief, and Xander couldn't look away from his parted lips.

He was suddenly and intensely aware of his position, of the way his larger body curved over Oz beneath him. His fingers kept moving, stroking over the brilliant red hair even as the water lightened to pale pink. It would be so easy to move closer, to take the half-step that would bring their bodies together, to lower his head and... and kiss him. Xander didn't know if there was a big enough word for the ambivalence that idea filled him with, warring emotions that threatened to tear him apart.

He'd... thought about it. Sometimes. For over a year now, ever since that first reaction that left him breathless and shocked. Thought about guys, what it would be like. None of it had really prepared him for this, though. He'd thought he was familiar with desire, but the stirring in his veins seemed foreign, some wilder, feral cousin of the desire he'd felt late at night. 

Stronger even than that, though, was the fear. Because if he did something, if he let himself do this, it would change everything. It would take all those things he thought about, the ones he could barely admit to himself in the dark, and bring them out into the light. Make them real. Xander's hands were beginning to shake, and he knew he needed to stop this, step back and stop it before Oz noticed anything was off. Instead of stopping completely, he only managed to slow, his hands strangely reluctant to stop touching the rare and beautiful creature they currently cradled. His legs failed to step back, holding him where he was, close (too close) to Oz.

Xander knew he had to do something soon. The water washing down the drain was clean and clear now, but he couldn't bring himself to end things, to close the door on this moment. For all his midnight deliberations, he'd never felt this way before, not really, not about someone he could actually touch and see. He felt the siren tug of want pulse behind his navel and wondered if it might be worth it, worth risking everything he had in order to get everything he wanted. Oz's mouth looked soft and perfect, the peach curve of lips inviting. Xander finally stopped combing through the wet hair and instead searched Oz's face for some sign that he wasn't alone in this feeling, some echo of his own longing. He thought that if he could find that, he could fumble inside himself and find the bravery to overcome his fear.

He reached out with one hand to turn off the water, the other still cupped and holding its precious burden. He knew his own face was revealing, showing his every emotion just as it always did, but Oz... Oz was as unreadable as ever. Xander wished he knew him better, knew how to divine the secrets within.

The water stopped. Oz's eyes opened and met his. Xander's answer was thunder in his heart, anticipation untamed racing in his veins, joy so fierce and uncontainable that he could do nothing but lean down and share it.


End file.
